All the Things We Cannot Say
by spoonsoftea
Summary: [SPOILERS] Post season 6, episode 2 - Mrs. Hughes's thoughts on the schoolhouse vs. Downton Abbey reception, and the ensuing conversation with Mr. Carson - with some surprising results.


Okay, so. Post season 6, episode 2. Which I loved, truly. There were some real, important issues to worked out between those old boobies. This is my fantasy resolution. (We'll have to see what JF does - I have very high hopes, if the promo pics are anything to go by!)

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There'd been an endless list of issues, it seemed, from the moment she'd accepted him. The previous misunderstanding was her responsibility; she was willing to admit that much, with all the fuss she'd made over her own vanity and foolishness.

How could it be he'd understood her so well then but not now, when it mattered more?

Except he hadn't understood then, not properly, had he? He'd believed she'd been having second thoughts, had believed she only wanted – warm friendship or whatever the devil Mrs. Patmore had said. He had broken it off, or tried to, would have if she hadn't explained herself. She wondered if he appreciated how blessedly difficult that had been – to tell a man she didn't feel able to please him, didn't feel confident enough in her looks to think he could want her.

Wasn't it _his_ turn now? To do the difficult thing and try to understand. Telling him she was afraid she'd be a disappointment was one thing, but this – this was worse.

Because for the first time she was asking him to choose her, and he _wasn't_.

She'd never asked before; she'd no right to, and, to be honest, no reasonable belief that he would choose her over any of the family. He worshipped them beyond anything she could ever hope to understand. It was a simple thing to see why he wanted to get married at the house, but it was obvious he had no idea why she was resisting.

She didn't care if it meant a lot to Lady Mary that they were married at Downton – because for the first time it wasn't _about_ Lady Mary, it was about _her_. It was about _them_. Why couldn't he see that all she wanted was for him to put them first, just for one day? If he desperately wanted the house for their reception, that would have been one thing – but the only words she'd heard from his mouth were what the Crawley family wanted, and she was bloody well sick of it.

 _I don't see why we shouldn't_ , he'd said. She'd almost laughed. This marriage, this wedding, it was one great test after another, as if fate or God or _something_ was giving her every opportunity to make sure he was what she really wanted.

Or perhaps God was giving _him_ a chance to see what he was getting himself into. Perhaps the second and third chances were for his sake – to give him occasion to realize he was taking on a penniless pauper with a dependent sister, marrying a woman he'd been at odds with nearly as often as in agreement.

Well, one thing was for sure: it wouldn't get sorted by doing nothing, and if he wouldn't come to her, she would go to him.

She knocked on the door to his pantry, waited for a heartbeat, and stepped inside.

He looked up. She did not attempt to decipher the look on his face. She felt sure he was growing tired of battling her. 'Mr. Carson.'

'Mrs. Hughes.' He stood, gestured at the two chairs on either side of the little table against the wall. 'I'm glad you came – I've been thinking about this matter of the reception.'

'As have I,' she replied, taking a seat.

'Yes, well, as I said, I've given it a great deal of thought,' he said, settling down opposite her. 'Our little fright with Miss Marigold was quite instructive on that score.'

'Was it now?' she said, surprised.

'It was,' he confirmed. 'It reminded me that you do care about the family.'

'Of course I do,' she said. 'And even if I didn't, a missing child is no time to go about holding grudges or what have you.'

'I know,' he agreed. 'I've been stubborn about it because I thought you disliked them, and I admit, it made me uncomfortable. But that's not why you're refusing the house.'

Speechless, she could only shake her head.

'I wanted the Abbey because His Lordship and Lady Mary offered it to us, and they mean a lot to me. But,' he said, taking a deep breath, 'you mean more. And you were right – on our wedding day, what you want is more important than the family. So if you'd like the schoolhouse, then I think that's where the reception should be.'

She could feel herself tearing up, and _Lord have mercy_ hadn't she been emotional enough these past few days? 'Thank you,' she whispered, blinking back tears and smoothing her dress. 'That's – not what I expected. But it doesn't have to be the schoolhouse – if you've another place in mind I'd be just as happy to have it there.'

'I haven't,' he said, standing up and offering her his hand. Dumbly, she took it and rose, surprised when he stepped closer. 'I'm marrying you. That's what's important.'

Quite unable to believe her ears, she could only stare at him, her sight blurring as tears pooled in her eyes. 'That means a great deal to me,' she said, swallowing past the lump in her throat. She was not shocked, but nonetheless surprised, when he touched her cheek with his fingertips and kissed her – just the brush of lips on hers.

Blushing, she beamed as he drew away. 'I'm glad we've got that sorted.'

'As am I,' he said. 'I don't like it when you and I aren't in agreement.'

Those words – distantly familiar and reassuring in a way she hadn't realized she'd needed – made her heart swell. 'Neither do I,' she assured him, squeezing his hand. 'Though I'm sure it'll happen often enough in the next few decades.'

'Perhaps,' he allowed, smiling before releasing her hand. 'I look forward to it.'

She flushed again, glancing down at the floor. 'Go and ring that gong, would you?'

She could hear him moving toward the door, and waited a moment before following. Well, she thought, dabbing at her eyes, perhaps she ought to give Mr. Carson more credit. And – for the first time since this marriage business began – she felt sure they wouldn't need any more chances God might be offering.

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End file.
